This is my first Sherlock Story :) So please go easy, would ya? I was actually just introduced to this show, like, three weeks ago and now I'm OBSESSED! It's probably one of the best shows I've ever seen so naturally I had to write a fic about it :) Anyway, review and tell me what ya think!

Disclaimer: I don't own a damn thing cuz if I did...well, you don't wanna know :) lol and I don't own Florence + the Machine or any of there songs!

Enjoy!

Drumming Song

"There's a drumming noise inside my head

That starts when you're around

I swear that you could hear it

It makes such an all mighty sound"

-Florence + the Machine

"John!"

John Watson looked up over his newspaper at his ridiculous, crazy, annoying, immature, extremely intelligent best friend, Sherlock Holmes and sighed, loudly. "What is it, Sherlock?"

"…I'm bored.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do about that?"

"Well, you see, it's quite simple. Even someone like you could do it." Sherlock explained. "Entertain me."

John rolled his eyes behind his newspaper. "I'm busy."

"I'm bored."

"Congratulations. I'll alert the media."

"I'll shoot the walls again…"Sherlock threatened.

"So, what would you like to do, your majesty?" John grumbled, setting down his paper.

"Anything."

"Why don't you just watch crap telly?"

Sherlock looked over at him from the couch on which he had himself spread out like a lazy cat. He really was quite like a cat at times. Lazy when the mood struck him, which was just about all the time, vicious when you upset him or did something he wasn't exactly happy about, and, strangely enough, rather affectionate when you pleased him. Sometimes, John pictured Sherlock with a pair of cat ears and a tail, which usually made him chuckle.

"I don't want to watch telly. I want you to entertain me, John!" Sherlock whined like a child.

"I don't know what to do to entertain you, Sherlock!"

Sherlock smirked. "We could play Cluedo again."

"…You're a horrible person, you know that?" John muttered while shaking his head.

A deep, rumbling chuckle was all he got in reply. John heaved himself out of his chair and went into the kitchen. When he opened the fridge, he quickly shut it again with a disgusted shout.

"Oh, what now?"

John stormed back into the living room. "Why the hell is there a jar of eyeballs in the fridge?"

"Experiment." Sherlock replied, nonchalantly. "They're not human ones! They are cow eyeballs."

"Why don't you entertain yourself with that?" John exclaimed before mumbling under his breath. "Where the hell did he get...nevermind. Don't wanna know."

Sherlock sighed. "Because I'm bored with it."

"You are the most childish person I've ever met." John muttered.

"Entertain me or I'll get out Cluedo and I shoot the ceiling where your room is." Sherlock threatened, smirking.

"Fine, fine!" John relented. "What do you want to do?"

There was a moment of silence as Sherlock took a few minutes to think, closing his eyes as he did whenever he ventured deep into his mind palace. John sat back down in his char and waited. He almost jumped when Sherlock let out a loud gasp and bounded from the couch to John's chair.

"Truth or Dare." The consulting detective exclaimed, a crazy grin on his pale face.

John blinked. "What?"

"Truth or Dare. John, really, do try to keep up."

"You want to play Truth or Dare?" John asked, narrowing his eyes. "I wasn't even aware that you knew what that was."

Sherlock rolled his gray eyes at the doctor. "I don't delete everything from my mind, John."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Not even something as silly as the Truth or Dare game?"

"Are you going to play it with me or no?"

John sighed. "Fine. You start then."

Sherlock grinned. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"John, I expected more from an adrenaline addicted Army doctor." Sherlock teased. "What is the most annoying thing you've ever heard?"

John chuckled. "Oh…um…do you really want me to answer this?"

"Yes." Sherlock replied, immediately.

"Your endless, obnoxiously loud whining."

Sherlock scowled. "I do not whine!"

"Hey, you asked, I answered."

"Oh fine then. Your turn." Sherlock pouted.

"Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

"Oh, now look whose the adrenaline addict." John chuckled. "I dare you…"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Suddenly, John grinned. "I dare you to eat those eyeballs you have in the fridge."

The look on the consulting detective's face was enough to make John burst into hysterical laughter. It was a mixture of pure horror, disbelief, and quite a bit of resentment. Resentment, John assumed, was more toward Sherlock himself for ever having brought those grotesque things into their flat. That was…a bit not good. John smirked as Sherlock looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Oh, no, Sherlock Holmes. You wanted to play this game, now we're playing it." John taunted, howling with laughter.

"You can't be serious!" Sherlock complained.

"If you don't get on with it, I'll make you eat them while filming you on my phone."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "You wouldn't…"

John grinned. "And then I'll send it to everyone at the Yard."

It took a moment for Sherlock to make his feet go toward the refrigerator and it took him a few more to actually get the eyeball out of it. He look over at John again, a clear look of 'Please-don't-make-me-do-this' was written all over his face.

John shook his head then decided to show Sherlock a little mercy. "You can cook them, how's that?"

"Not an exceptionally pleasant difference, but I suppose it'll do." Sherlock sneered; setting the eyeballs next to the stove then stopped and turned to John.

"…What?" John asked.

"I…cannot cook."

"I…um…what?"

"John, you know perfectly well how much I detest repeating myself."

Blinking, John slowly started to smile until he looked like the cat that stole the cream. "Are you, Sherlock Holmes, actually admitting that you can't do something?"

"John…"

"Did I hear that right?"

"John…"

"Maybe I should get my hearing checked, you know I'm not as young as I used to be and all that damn gunfire and explosions really do take a bit out of someone's hearing so maybe…"

"John Hamish Watson, if you are done with you senseless prattling…" Sherlock shouted, "would you kindly assist me in the cooking of these…eyeballs so that we may proceed on with our game."

"Alright, alright!" John replied, strolling into the kitchen. "All you had to do was ask nicely, you know."

Sherlock gave him such a glare that John felt he might die on the spot from the intensity of the icy look in his best friend and flatmate's eyes.

"You know, you don't have to do this…if you don't want to."

"I'm not a coward, John."

"Never said you were, but…"

"Get on with it, Doctor." Sherlock commanded.

"Well…um…I don't want to get you sick." John admitted, looking sheepish.

"John." Sherlock started.

"Yes?"

"Cook the damn eyeballs so I can make you eat something disgusting too." Sherlock replied, looming over John in such a way that he would've made Godzilla look small and puny.

It was then that John noticed something. Something that wasn't quite right. It was something that he'd never noticed until now simply because…well, he didn't have the time. He began to notice that whenever Sherlock was in close proximity that his heart would begin to pound relentlessly against his ribcage, in such a way that John was sure he was having a heart attack. It was rather strange, given the fact that John had always, always corrected people whenever they assumed that he and Sherlock were in a relationship.

He wasn't…gay…was he?

John was pretty sure that the only homosexual in his family was his sister. He had never been attracted to another man before, but then again, John had never known a man like Sherlock before. There wasn't a man like Sherlock, except…Sherlock. Then what the hell

"John, are you going to stare at me all night or are you going to cook those disgusting things?" Sherlock exclaimed, bringing John out of his thoughts and back to reality.

John nodded. "Yeah, right." He got out a pan and started to cook the eyeballs. The smell itself was testing his gagging reflex and made him worry just a bit about whether or not he should let Sherlock eat these things. They could make him very sick and oh, god, then John would have to take care of the overgrown six foot baby that was his friend. Now that would be the most annoying thing ever. He glanced over his shoulder. "How do you like your eyeballs? Spicy, salty, or garlicky?"

Sherlock glared. "Don't make me come over there."

Oh, god, come over here, you sexy hunk of man meat What the hell? John's cheeks soon flushed bright pink as he mentally kicked himself in the ass. What in the hell was that?

"Do take your time!"

John shook his head and finished cooking the eyeballs before setting them on a plate. They looked better before they were cooked, in John's honest opinion. They were mushy and looked liked something that someone from the Food Network wouldn't do. He very reluctantly set the plate down in front of Sherlock and watched him.

"Are you sure that you want to eat that, Sherlock?" John questioned. "Because that looks positively disgusting."

Sherlock made a face then looked up at John. "I dare you to help me eat it."

"I'd rather lick Anderson's ass, which is saying a lot." John giggled. Sherlock smiled, despite the fact that he was about to eat something that resembled a monster from his darkest dreams.

"Well, start planning my funeral, John." Sherlock joked before taking a bite. Almost immediately, he turned green and held out his hand to John.

"Sherlock?" John questioned, grabbing his friends outstretched hand. He'd be lying if he didn't admit that he felt butterflies in his stomach as soon as he touched Sherlock.

The consulting detective didn't answer and instead began to chew and then he swallowed with a shudder. Several minutes passed until John began to panic and squeezed Sherlock's hand.

"Are you okay?"

Sherlock's eyes slowly made their way over to John, but he still didn't reply.

"Geez, is my cooking that bad?" John tried to joke, but failed miserably.

Taking a deep breath, the detective replied, "Okay, no more daring other people to eat the body parts in the refrigerator."

"Are you alright?" John asked again, giving Sherlock's hand another squeeze.

"I'm fine. That was just…horrible." Sherlock groaned.

He and John shared a look before they both said, "It needed more salt."

They both began to laugh while John disposed of the nasty things and cleaned the plate before they both settled in the living room. It was a few minutes before Sherlock finally said, "Alright. It's my turn."

"Oh, you can't possibly be serious!" John exclaimed, looking at Sherlock like he'd just sprouted two heads.

"I most certainly am serious. Now Truth or Dare?"

"Truth." John replied, immediately.

Sherlock smirked at him. "You looked frightened for a minute there."

"Ask your damn question, you lanky bastard."

"Oh, that's charming, that is!"

"Sherlock…" John said, before taking a sip of the tea he left near his chair.

"Do you find me attractive, Dr. Watson?"

John would've liked to tell you that his tea did not spurt from his lips like a fountain. He'd like to tell you that Sherlock didn't howl like a god damn monkey at him. He'd like to tell you all that, but he can't because he's too busy coughing and hacking while Sherlock is laughing his ass off. Suddenly, he wishes he'd dared Sherlock to eat all of those eyeballs. Sexy, gangly bastard…oh my god, did I just call him sexy?

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock asked, still chuckling.

The only reply he received was John giving him the finger.

"I'll wait till you're done hacking and can breathe properly."

Oh, how kind of you, you horrible, awful, terrible, sexy, intelligent Stop! John shook himself from his traitorous thought and took a couple deep breaths before he replied, "I bloody refuse to even acknowledge that question."

"Why? Because you do find me attractive?"

"No "

"So you don't find me attractive?"

"Now I didn't say that "

"So you do!"

"Sherlock!" John yelled, glaring at his smirking friend. "That is not whatflatmates talk about."

"Why?" Sherlock asked, curious.

"Well, because…it would probably change things."

"How?"

John gave him an incredulous look. "Sherlock, are you telling me that you honestly don't know how this could possibly change our relationship?"

"Would it help if I said that I find you attractive?"

"I…wait, you do?"

Sherlock nodded, smiling slightly. "Yes, John, I find you very attractive."

Jump him! Jump his ass, John Watson! GO FOR IT! He mentally kicked himself and shoved those naughty thoughts to the back of his mind. He could just feel his heart rate rise into the triple digits. Oh god…

"Well, thank you, Sherlock." John managed, looking at anything but Sherlock.

"Your welcome, John." Sherlock purred.

Purred? REALLY? You're doing this on purpose, aren't you, you bastard?

John blinked then cleared his throat. "I…um…think you're…um…rather handsome…too."

The smile that spread across that man's face was purely sinful and made John's pants almost unbearably tight. Oh, he was sooooo doing this on purpose! His gray eyes sparkled mischievously as he damn near bored holes into John's face. The good doctor shifted in his chair and crossed his legs, almost groaning when his body let him know that he was definitely in the mood. Oh, great…

"Excellent!" Sherlock exclaimed, smiling. "Your turn, Dr. Watson."

Oh you're a horrible man, you know that? John thought, growling under his breath. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

Would you let me fuck you? Please let me fuck youStop! No more! Bad, John! BAD! John decided to play it safe and boring. It was either that or rape his flatmate, and he wasn't too keen on that idea…for the moment.

"What's your favorite color?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That's rather boring, isn't it?"

"You gonna answer it or are you going to complain?" John asked, tired and horny. God, I need a drink…

The consulting detective brought his hands to his lips his usual thinking pose and took a few minutes before he answered, "Blue."

"Blue? Really?" John muttered. "I would've thought it was purple."

"Why?"

"'Cause you wear that damn purple shirt every chance you get!"

"This is coming from the man who wears jumpers every day." Sherlock rumbled, amused.

John shook his head and waved his hand, as if he could make the conversation disappear. "Alright, alright. Your turn, right?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Ask away."

"Truth or Dare?"

John mentally kicked himself for this. "Dare."

"I dare you to not date any of those horrible females of yours for three months." Sherlock smirked.

"Three months?" John said, incredulously. "I have needs, Sherlock."

"You have a hand, John. Two, in fact."

"I'll end up with Carpal Tunnel."

Sherlock laughed. "You'll live."

"Jackass…" John mumbled. "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

"I thought you knew better than that, Sherlock."

He shrugged. "I'm not a coward."

John sighed. "I dare you to…wear that deerstalker every time we go out for three months."

Sherlock looked like a deer in headlights. "What?"

"Hey, why should I be the only one to suffer for three months?"

"I think I'd rather get Carpal Tunnel."

"Right, well, I'm getting tired." John sighed, getting up out of his chair. "Let's continue this another time, eh?"

"Tomorrow?" Sherlock asked, almost childishly.

John chuckled. "Yes, Sherlock. Good night."

He was halfway to his room when heard Sherlock's reply.

"Good night, John."

He shuddered all the way up to his room.

Tell me what you guys think! :) Please be nice cuz if I get a flame, I'll cry D': Seriously, though, no flames! I'll give you a cookie if you review :)